Less Interested In Pretending
by Aisling-Siobhan
Summary: Written for the Loki Month Prompt 7: Free For All. It was a little bit cruel to continue their game, especially since Loki didn't seem to know that the rules had changed. But it was also a little bit sexy, so Tony was going to let it continue. Maybe if he dropped enough hints, got a little more demanding regarding his taste in men, Loki would get the hint? Tony/Avengers. Tony/Loki.


Here's my contribution for Prompt 7 (25th-28th February 2014): Free For All.

I got really far behind, but I managed to get caught up in time. Or at least, not be too late… Enjoy. Again, I combined this with another Tumblr Prompt I was planning to write (it helps keep my to-do list smallish).

"Less Interested in Pretending"

**Disclaimer: ** The Avengers, Tony, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don't sue.

**Summary: ** [Loki/Tony] It was a little bit cruel to continue their game, especially since Loki didn't seem to know that the rules had changed. But it was also a little bit sexy, so Tony was going to let it continue. Maybe if he dropped enough hints, got a little more demanding regarding his taste in men, Loki would get the hint?

**Warnings:** Loki Month. Loki as other people. Frostiron. Tony/other people (secretly Loki). Slash. Tumblr Prompt. Loki really wants in Tony's pants. Loki does what he wants. Summarised porn. I took the prompt a bit too far. Not sorry at all.

**Rating: ** NC-17.

**A/N**: Le-marche-noir on Tumblr asked for: Loki starts masquerading as each Avenger, attempting to find the 'right' one to seduce Tony. This would probably end with Loki trying himself (as a last ditch effort) and succeeding. Tony, of course, would flirt with each of them in turn. At least, until things got real.

_XXX_

"_Now all of a sudden I'm so less interested in pretending to be a lot of other people, and much more interested in being me_."- Jamie Lee Curtis

**Words: ** 5,795

**Chapter 1**

Loki was many things, selfish being chief amongst them. But he was also manipulative, greedy and covetous. When Loki wanted something, Loki made sure he got it, no matter who he had to trample over in the process. Unfortunately, sometimes it wasn't as easy as all that, sometimes you couldn't simply take something or force it to happen. Like now, because what Loki wanted currently was Anthony Stark, and the one thing that Loki _wasn't_ was a rapist. He was tricky though, and sly, and there was more than one way to skin a cat.

One way or another, Loki would get what he wanted.

_XXX_

It started with Bruce, in the lab, doing science. And wow, didn't that sound like a line out of cluedo? Tony might have been ashamed of himself if not for the fact that he was too busy being bemused by Bruce's behaviour. A little flattered too, admittedly, and sort of excited: school-girl crush excited though, which was weird.

Tony loved Bruce's brain, don't get him wrong, and he had a pretty nice body too. But he just wasn't Tony's type. Tony Stark liked women with big tits and men with long legs and tight asses, and well, Bruce was shorter than he was and was rocking the geek look. Tony had gotten over (and under) that already in college, thank you very much, and had moved on to the supermodel variety.

Unfortunately for that mantra, he didn't really agree with saying no to freely offered sex, so when Bruce kissed him, one hand clinging to his neck and the other sneakily finding its way down Tony's pants, Tony kissed back. It was strange and confusing, because Bruce was usually so much more reserved than that, but before Tony could question him the other scientist had taken his pants off.

It wouldn't do to hurt Bruce's feelings by saying no, would it? Not when his friend was already standing around in his underwear, the wet patch across the front made more noticeable by the hardness beneath it. Sending him away like that would just be cruel. So they fucked over one of the benches in the lab, Bruce throwing whatever had been across it onto the floor to make room. When it was over, Bruce pulled his clothes back on in silence, with a strange sort of smile on his face (half pleased but half upset at the same time, like he hadn't _quite_ gotten what he had wanted), and left.

Tony just shrugged it off, more than used to abandoning his one night stands to take offense when someone did it to him, and kept working. But Bruce came back in an hour later, and the first thing he did was not kiss Tony again, or swear him to secrecy or anything of the sort; rather, he shouted at Tony for the mess he'd made of Bruce's desk.

"Uh, but, you...?" Tony tried to protest, because it had been Bruce who cleared the desk onto the floor.

Bruce let loose a little growl, his eyes an interestingly dangerous shade of green as he bent over to start picking everything up. Tony helped him in silence, now even more confused than he had been an hour ago, but Bruce didn't look like he wanted to talk, so Tony didn't ask. Or question. Or even mention that day, to anyone, ever, not even two weeks later when _Natasha_ walked into Tony's room and crawled into the bed beside him like it was no big deal.

_XXX_

"What is it?" Tony asked, placing his StarkPad on the bedside table so that he could give her his full attention.

Natasha usually knocked, unless it was urgent (a throw back to her PA days when she had been trying to seem as inconspicuous and servantile as possible). Tony was half out of the bed, worried that an attack had gone down without anyone telling him or that someone had been hit by a car or something else that didn't involve calling out the Avengers, before Natasha responded.

"Nothing so serious," she told him softly, flicking her red hair back over her shoulders. "I have a personal problem that I was hoping you might take care of," she stopped speaking to lick her lips, eyes hooded as she crawled up onto the bed beside him, and added breathily, "Sir."

Tony blinked. His feet had been on the ground, but now he swung his legs back up onto the bed, with his back against the headboard. Natasha crawled onto his lap, biting her bottom lip coquettishly all the while. She ran a hand softly down his cheek and Tony turned into the touch, kissing her palm softly. This was unusual, but not as unusual as Bruce just randomly stripping for him and bending over a desk. At least he and Natasha had done this before! Tony's drunken "I'm dying so let me do what I want" party had actually ended in (along with him getting beaten up by Rhodey) Pepper and Natasha putting him to bed, and then actually tiring him out enough to sleep. It had been the single hottest experience of Tony's life, even including the time he absconded with the entire company of Russian ballerinas after watching Swan Lake, because, well, red heads, you know!

Tony wasn't with Pepper anymore, having downgraded their relationship after _that _Christmas to friends with benefits and then later to just good friends; Pepper accepting that Iron Man would always be a part of Tony and it wasn't fair of her to try and change that. So he lay back, with his hands up on the headboard the way he knew Natasha liked him, and Tony let her take control.

She seemed a little surprised by the action, blinking at him in silence for a few seconds until a grin unlike any other stretched her mouth wide (well, it was a grin unlike any of Natasha's other smiles, though Tony would swear he had seen it somewhere before). She took the lead easily, happily in fact once she got over the suddenness of having Tony Stark begging to be tied up beneath her: it shouldn't have surprised her, because that's the way Natasha had always done it, with her men tied up so that they couldn't hurt her while she was vulnerable. Apparently it was a Red Room thing, though she'd never explained exactly what that meant, but Tony knew enough to know it meant that men shouldn't touch her unless she touched them first.

She looked like Natasha and she felt like Natasha, but she didn't fuck like her. Natalie Rushman had fucked him like a cowgirl who didn't need the reigns, seated on his lap with her back bowed and her hands on his thighs for purchase instead of his chest. Her head had always been thrown back, but her eyes would stay on Tony's face or his bound hands, unconcerned by Pepper until she had sat on Tony's face, blocking Natalie's view. Later, after the truth had come out and Pepper had tried to save their failing 'friends with benefits' relationship and invited Natasha Romanoff to join them, Natasha had been much the same, only slightly more vicious. Tony could remember having bruises on his hips from the force of Natasha slamming down on top of him, sitting behind Pepper on his cock, Pepper on his stomach while Natasha's fingers made her scream and Tony's hands were trapped by a pair of handcuffs that apparently didn't come with keys. This Natasha curled towards Tony, her hair brushing against Tony's face with every rock of her hips. Before, he had been made to lie still while Natasha used him for her pleasure and then mercifully let him come inside of her, but now she encouraged him to fuck her, pleading with him to thrust up harder to meet her, even tugged at his restraints twice so that he could touch her.

Tony let her fumble for a while, pulling at the handcuffs Tony had managed to get on himself to no effect before giving up with a frustrated whine and leaning down to kiss him. Natasha never kissed him, never; not even the time Tony thought he was going to bleed to death in Brooklyn and Thor started pressing 'farewell, brother' kisses to Tony's cheeks and Clint joined in once the bleeding had stopped. But she kissed him now, and Tony used her moment of distraction as her eyes were closed to flick the latches on the cuffs, right at the point where Natasha herself had shown him. Hands free, he grabbed her waist.

Tony flipped her on to her back, his entire body going still and tense above her, waiting for her to shove him away. But she pulled him closer, legs curling around his waist and hands coming up to pull his face back down to hers. She kissed him like she was drowning and he was air, fingers moving so that they could tangle in his hair, threaded through it so that he couldn't pull back even after their mouths separated.

Now _this_ was Bruce wanting casual sex in his laboratory unusual. But, he was Tony Stark, and Tony Stark didn't deprive himself of consensual sex just because things got a little weird. After they were done, however, Tony was planning to figure out what the _fuck_ was going on.

_XXX_

"Hey Natasha," Tony greeted her the next morning, munching on a muffin as the superspy set about making herself some coffee. Natasha gave him a side-eyed glance and offered a quick nod of her head before turning her attention back to her coffee. Yeah, that was the Natasha Tony knew and feared; whoever had been in his bed last was most certainly a different person. But she had looked and felt like Natasha, sounded like her, smelt like her, and how was that even possible without being a fucking pod person, or having some sort of mutant superpower, or...

Tony paused: mouth hanging open to display his half chewed toast to the world (well, just Natasha actually), as the proverbial light bulb went off over his head.

He was pretty sure he was right, but his theory would need some testing, he wanted to be sure about it; scientific. Good practical experiments were carried out in stages of three, and there were three more Avengers that Tony hadn't managed to fuck yet, so it shouldn't be too hard to gather the evidence needed.

The moment Tony came to decision on a plan of action, Clint walked into the kitchen. He snorted; he couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. He offered Clint a wink, nudging his shoulder lightly as the archer leaned around him to grab a bowl. Clint, predictably, gave him a dirty look. He had no problem with homosexuality, but he did seem to have a great aversion to anything sexual that involved Tony Stark (which began around the time that Tony let slip he'd been double teamed by two particular red heads).

Jealousy, Tony thought as he jumped down off of the counter, what an ugly emotion.

He left Clint and Natasha to their breakfast, and made a mental note to check the cameras later on to see if Natasha mentioned anything to Clint, or vice versa. He doubted it, because how often was he wrong? Exactly! But still, it wouldn't kill him to be thorough.

Two hours later, Clint found him in the gym. Tony was all sweaty, face red as he panted, and Clint was, well, not. He was dry and clean and smelled really good as he walked up to Tony and pushed him until he was lying flat on the bench he had been sitting on.

"What's up, birdbrain?" Tony didn't expect an answer, because Clint usually ignored his little jabs. But then again Clint didn't usually come within touching distance of Tony when there were perfectly good jabs to be made, like now for instance, when Tony was panting and sweaty and perfectly willing to make jokes about Clint getting him all worked up. Clint gave him a narrow-eyed look, not pleased by the insult, but not otherwise reacting to it. Clint would have ignored him, or if pushed far enough Clint would have snarled something back and walked off in a sulk. But this wasn't Clint Barton. This was someone pretending to be Clint, like they had pretended to be Natasha and Bruce too, or at least that was Tony's theory.

"I want to fuck you," the fake-Clint demanded calmly. Which was fair enough, since the last two times the imposter had been on the bottom, and consensual sex was good sex as far as Tony was concerned. So he spread his legs, enjoying the sharp inhale the imposter made at his easy acceptance.

When they were naked, Tony made a show of staring at 'Clint's' pubic hair, one finger gliding down the line of hair on his stomach until it met up with the rest, and he twirled his finger in the darker patch. He stared at Clint's eyebrows and the hair on his head for a moment before sighing sadly, "I thought you would be blonder down there. I'm really big into blonds at the moment. Tall guys too, I guess. Shame, but beggars can't be choosers," Tony murmured and without giving the imposter a chance to reply he pulled Clint's face down for a kiss.

When they were finished, and Tony was red in the face and panting for a completely different reason, the imposter sat back on his haunches with his own fingers trailing idly along the hair that spread across the tops of his thighs. "Blond, hmm?" He questioned softly, eyeing Tony shrewdly.

"What can I say? Blonds have more fun." Tony offered him a shrug, aiming for nonchalant even though he was still trying to regulate his breathing. Slightly envious of how composed the fake-Clint seemed to be, breathing easily and skin still pale and far less sweaty than Tony's (the superhuman freak), Tony shoved him away, crawling out from beneath his spread legs to make a grab for his clothes.

Clint kissed him, sudden and messy: his hands spinning Tony around with his arms in his shirt and his head not quite there yet, getting them both horribly tangled up. Clint pulled away just as swiftly, offering Tony a nod of his head and a soft, "blond it is," that Tony was pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear, before turning and walking out of the room. Naked.

Completely naked.

Tony admired the view, and felt absolutely no guilt about planning to use the CCTV recording to freak Clint out some night after he'd drunk enough to forget whatever it was Tony was going to convince him they'd done. It was all in good fun, and the real Barton would get over it eventually (hopefully).

_XXX_

The next one was blonder than Clint had been. Actual _blond_, instead of ashy blond, and he was taller too. Steve was everything Tony could have wanted in a tall, blond lover; in fact, Steve was who Tony had been thinking of when he gave out that description. And here Steve was, or here Steve wasn't rather because that wasn't Steve cooking half-naked in the kitchen. Steve adored cooking, hated leaving dirty dishes on the counter and couldn't bear to serve someone food unless he had seen them washing their hands himself. There was no way Steve would stand around in the communal kitchen (communal! Where anyone might see him!) wearing nothing buy a chef's hat and an Iron Man apron.

Not that Tony wasn't very, very happy to see him – whoever it was – because Steve was gorgeous and Tony would totally go there, if it wasn't for the fact that Steve was totally still hung up on that girl from the war and had no intention of moving on any time soon. Tony was an ass, but not that much of an ass. But this wasn't really Steve, and it wasn't like they hadn't had sex before, and he was the one sneaking around wearing other peoples' skins so Tony didn't owe him any sort of "are you sure you want to give your fake, maybe you are, maybe you aren't, virginity to me" obligations.

"Hey good looking, what's cooking?" Tony was practically leering at Steve's butt when he turned around to face the engineer. There was a spatula in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other.

"Nothing. It was just for effect," the Soldier whispered. He squeezed some of the cream on to the spatula and then licked it off. And yeah, that was hot, but it was so much hotter because Tony knew it _wasn't_ his friend Steve doing it. Banner he could see himself in a brief relationship with, Natasha Tony had already tapped that twice, but Clint and Steve and god forbid Thor were so not his type. But it was ok, and still sexy as fuck, because it wasn't any of them; these weren't his friends, not his family, nothing to do with him. This was just some nut (and Tony had a good idea who) who got his kicks out of playing tricks on other people, or at the very least who was a masochist looking to beat himself up a little. Who the fuck had to pretend to be someone else just to get someone into bed? Tony wouldn't have thought it about the guy, because while he might have been a nut case, he wasn't a bad looking nutcase!

"Is that so?" Tony licked his lips, his brown eyes almost black as he kept them fixed on the tongue that flicked out between pink lips to lick away another squirt-full of cream. "How's it taste?"

"Good," Steve practically purred in reply.

"Bet it'll taste better if you lick if off of me," Tony offered, already pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Steve's blue eyes went wide, delighted that Tony would so easily fall prey to his seduction. It was a little pathetic honestly, that he thought he was doing so well all on his own, when mostly it was Tony finding their game to be ridiculously hot and wanting to go along with it to see how long it would last. They were almost out of Avengers, and Tony was almost looking forward to the end game. Whether or not he'd turn up as himself at the end of their game was something Tony didn't want to bet on (mostly cause he didn't know which scenario he'd prefer), but as every teacher he'd ever had always said: fuck the ending, it's how you play the game that counts.

And Tony was planning to _play_.

In the end, he didn't get to do much playing. He spent the next hour on his back across the kitchen table while Steve went through three cans of cream, licking them off every inch of Tony's skin available (and from some places that Tony knew the real Steve would probably have a heart attack at the thought of). When the cream ran out, Steve pulled out the big guns: chocolate that he had been slowly melting in the pan on the stove (only for effect, my ass, Tony thought, as Steve licked chocolate _off of_ his ass). It was messy and delicious and so fucking arousing, but now there was chocolate drying in uncomfortable places and the cream was starting to smell a little funky as the room and body temperatures went up.

"That was fun," Tony praised. He lay bonelessly across the table, unconcerned that someone could walk in (though he doubted it since no one had caught them so far, so fake-Steve was probably doing something to keep it that way). If anyone thought they knew Steve, they'd probably expect him to be the guy who got married before having sex, and the only way to end a one night stand with a guy like that was to let them down gently or promised to call and never do so. Tony went with the first option: likely whoever this was knew them well enough to fool Tony the first few times, but not enough to know that Steve and Clint would never have had sex with him. But better safe than sorry, right? So Tony smiled softly, reaching out to squeeze Steve's hand in apology as he said, "But it can't happen again, Steve. You're really not my type."

"Oh?" He thought about it for a moment, forehead creasing and eyebrows drawing closer together. "I heard from Clint that you, uh, liked tall blonds? Am I not tall enough?"

Tony tilted his head, sitting up a little from his casual sprawl to glance Steve up and down. He was tall, about 6 foot and 5, an inch taller than Thor who was already an inch too tall. "Too tall," Tony repeated out loud, having come to a decision. "I guess you didn't know, but I was talking more about Asgardian hair anyway, you know, all long and wavy?" He purposely didn't mention a hair colour. Ball was in the imposter's court now.

_XXX_

Tony could admit he was a little disappointed when someone knocked on his bedroom door at 3am and he opened it to find Thor waiting for him to answer. It wasn't who he had been expecting, exactly, but it was the last Avenger which meant end of the line, the game was drawing to a close, time to wrap it up and any other phrase you could think of to fit the situation. Mainly, it meant that either it ended and they walked away from this or Tony's anonymous lover would have to grow a pair and out himself (or Tony would have to admit that he _knew_, and hope like hell his guess was the right one).

"Hey Point Break, how's it hanging?" Thor's face did the expression; you know the one he made whenever he didn't understand what Tony was saying. With everyone else, Thor just stared until they explained, but with Tony who was of the opinion that explaining a joke ruined the point Thor's eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down and his eyes got impossibly wide. It was the kicked puppy look to end all kicked puppy looks, but Tony has plenty of practice ignoring what other people wanted, so he ignored the look easily too, but that didn't stop Thor from trying it. One of these days, Thor was going to demand an explanation, before or after Mjölnir was introduced to Tony's face was questionable, but Pepper had bets on either happening.

"How are you?" Tony said, taking pity on not-Thor, who was dancing foot to foot awkwardly in the doorway. "Come in."

"Well, friend Stark." His voice was spot on, but he hesitated on the 'friend' and Tony almost sighed. He wondered if this guy even had any friends, if the word felt as unfamiliar to him as he made it sound, and then wondered why he cared. This was just sex. Great sex, yes, fun sex, yes, but definitely casual sex. There were no strings attached, no obligations (and Tony happily ignored the little voice in his mind that whispered that though this was _his_ first time with Thor, it was the stranger's _fifth_ time with him and that had to mean something to one of them). "I am well. How fare thee?"

"Better if you'd come in and shut the door. Last thing I need is one of the others feely nosy."

"Ah," Thor whispered, "secrecy." He sounded sad, but resigned, and he obligingly closed the door behind himself once he was in the room.

Ok, now that was pathetic, and it was starting to make Tony feel a little bit guilty. He obviously didn't know that Tony knew, and with Tony knowing, that the rules of the game had changed. Maybe if he dropped enough hints, got a little more demanding regarding his taste in men, Loki would get the hint?

But first: Thor.

"So, tell me," Tony drawled, fingers tugging at the strings that kept his sleep pant up. "Is it true what they say about your hammer?"

Thor's lips curved up in a smirk, blue eyes bright with mischief. Undoubtedly, Loki wanted to say something not very flattering, but he kept in person and whispered instead, "Why don't you come over here and find out for yourself?"

They fucked against the door, with Tony on the bottom again. His chest was against his arms, his arms against the door and Thor's arms were around his waist, holding him a little off of the ground to compensate for the height difference. Tony's cheek was red and aching, mashed against the door and rubbing with every one of Thor's thrusts, and each of Tony's cries were muffled by the wood as he panted open mouthed, air something of a scarce commodity of late and shame a feeling he'd happily forgotten about. Tony panted, he begged, he pleaded and screamed and wailed, and he loved every fucking second of it. Thor was a machine, (Thor, not-Thor, whatever); but Thor's body was built to dominate, to loom over smaller lovers and pound them through the wall or the mattress or a door, muscles bulging and tensing with every movement, arms like vices around Tony's waist, suspending him in the air without crushing him, his cock thick and long and filling Tony just right, hitting all of the right places as Tony got himself off by rutting against the door. Jane was one lucky woman if Thor had even half of the imposter's skill in the bedroom.

"You're too tall," Tony complained after he had come and Thor had lowered him back onto the soles of his feet. The balls of his feet hurt after spending the last half hour with his toes curled up off of the floor, but he could get over that. What Tony couldn't get over was that Loki still wasn't coming clean. What more did he want? He'd fucked his way through all of the Avengers, so unless he planned to seduce Tony while wearing the Iron Man suit there wasn't much more fun he could derive from their game. But he still pretended to be Thor, brushing soft fingers down Tony's flank before curiously dipping them into the wet crease between his cheeks, playing with the seed there (because Asgardians didn't believe in condoms apparently).

"You like tall men," Thor groused, tugging his hand away in annoyance.

"Yeah, but maybe an inch shorter than you, that would be perfect. Can't have everything I guess," Tony lamented with a shrug and a forced frown. He chanced a glance at Thor's face, turning away quickly to hide the smile that he couldn't stop from forming at the frustrated glare Thor was sending him. "I'm not a fan of the blond either, to be honest. I'm not sure what it is, but long hair should be darker, right? Maybe black? No harm though, right; we had fun." Tony crawled onto his bed, tugging the comforter over his legs as he sprawled out on his belly while ignoring the duvet. He made sure Thor had a good view of his ass, stretching and wriggling to get comfortable and occasionally flashing his cock as he lifted his hips to fluff the blanket he was lying on. Then Tony went boneless, sinking into the mattress with a yawn, before waving over his shoulder, "you can join me if you like, Goldilocks?" And fuck, but Tony really hoped he got the hint.

Thor didn't join him. In fact, Thor hadn't been by the Tower in three weeks, caught up in Asgardian duties worlds away, so Tony kept quiet about the late night excursion, just as he kept quiet about them all. When Bruce asked him the next morning who had kept him up all night, (having the room directly below Tony's, the poor fucker) Tony had winked, licked his lips, and kept his mouth too busy with his coffee to reply.

_XXX_

"I am shorter than Thor, yet taller than Barton. My hair is longer, though not blond. Black was your preference, was it not? I am a man. I am not Asgardian, though my hair might be considered such as my true species generally do not have hair upon their heads." Tony blinked his eyes open, rubbing at them sleepily as a voice interrupted his rather interesting dream about flying poptarts and nuclear weapons made from cats. "Are you happy now, Stark?"

Loki was standing beside the bed, with his arms crossed and his mouth set in a scowl. His hair was shoulder length just like Tony remembered it being, dark like a raven's wing and just a little bit wavy at the ends. His lips were red and frowning but perfectly kissable and his eyes were once again that interestingly unusual shade of green. All 6 foot 3 inches of him was dressed in leather and gold, but as Tony spoke the clothing melted away to reveal just the perfect height's worth of silky, pale flesh.

"You're just right," Tony purred, holding a hand out for Loki to take, "and I'm going to eat you all up."

Loki took the offered hand, and the invitation to Tony's bed, and let himself be pulled down beside the engineer. His legs spread themselves automatically, inviting Tony to lie between them, mouth tilted up to ask for his kisses and body arching into wandering hands eagerly. The noises he made were almost sinful, and Tony loved every second of this more than any of the other encounters combined, because this was really Loki (not his friend, or his family, or his co-workers, but the guy who had wanted Tony enough to pretend to be other people because he didn't think that he was good enough as himself).Yeah, it wasn't what Tony had planned back when he had first figured out Loki's game, but he could get his head around this plan easily enough too, especially if Loki kept making those noises.

He hummed softly as Tony kissed his throat; whined desperately as Tony's fingers probed between his legs; as Tony's hand encircled his cock for the first time that night, Loki breathed in sharply, almost gasping; he sobbed lightly, face turned away as he swallowed the heart that had lept into his throat as Tony whispered, "you are so beautiful", into his hair; he writhed and cried out, voice loud and demanding as Tony thrust inside of him, bodies rocking furiously together, almost battling as Loki gave back as good as he got and more, and Tony tried to match him; he came with his mouth open, a sound like he was choking escaping from his throat as the air was punched out of his lungs by the force of his orgasm, almost silent but body trembling as Tony stroked him through his release; and when Tony came, seed marking him from the inside and teeth leaving their claim on the outside, Loki screamed: it was sharp and fragile sounding, like he was about to break apart beneath the mortal, and Tony pulled back to watch him carefully. The God didn't shatter, but he melted into the mattress still pinned beneath Tony and he made sure to pull the human down with him, legs limply falling from around his waist but arms still around his neck and hands tangled in his hair as Loki tugged him in for a kiss.

When they pulled apart, Loki kept his arms up by his head in a silent invitation for more (a repeat performance of the night with 'Natasha') and turned his face away. Tony dropped his head sleepily to rest in the crook of Loki's neck, getting a mouthful of dark hair and the scent of sex and sweat every time he breathed in.

"Well, Stark, any complaints?" Loki kept his eyes averted as he spoke, breathing evenly while Tony was still a mortal, panting mess, cock half-hard and still inside of the God and face hidden somewhere between Loki's hair and neck.

"Only complaint," Tony began, pulling back enough to stare at Loki. He paused until the God glanced over to meet his eyes, body tensing as he waited for another criticism. "My _only_ complaint, babe, is that you waited this long to crawl in to my bed looking like you. I practically had to spell it out for you, you took so long to catch on, you know."

Loki could have responded with a surprised but pleased, "you knew it was me", or a hopeful yet wary, "that's your only complaint"? But, this was still the Loki who invaded New York and then tried to fuck Asgard over by allowing the heir to abdicate and then running off himself once he got bored of the throne without telling anyone where he had hidden Odin's sleeping body. He was stroppy and spiteful, and insecure to the point of arrogance because he had to over compensate, so Tony hadn't much hope of him being grateful in anyway. And he wouldn't be Loki if he wasn't an asshole.

"No," Loki gritted out between clenched teeth, shoving at Tony until the mortal rolled off of him. He dressed himself with a wave of his hand, scowling angrily all the while, as he paced once around the room like a caged tiger. "I didn't know. Perhaps if you weren't so much of a whore it would not have taken this long to realise your true preferences." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that it bounced back open.

Tony considered going after him, thought about what he could say to make things better, or how to get Loki out of the Tower before anyone noticed him and without offending the God so that he still had a Tower left to kick Loki out of. Tony could say that he'd always known it was Loki (with the exception of Bruce, so he'd conveniently leave that part out); that it was always Loki Tony had been thinking of. Or he could insult Loki's intelligence and self-esteem for having thought up such a stupid plan in the first place. Or maybe he'd offer him another drink, shrug and apologise though they'd both knew that he didn't really mean it, and then seduce Loki back into bed. He could do all that, but maybe later. Right now, Tony was going to bask.

Post-orgasmic afterglow, and all that: it'd be a shame to waste it.

**The End**

I was high on various drugs and had just gotten two immunizations (I'm going on holiday on Friday for ten days) when I wrote the last few scenes, so if anything seems whack, this is why. Forgive me. I also just realised… I managed to write more porn for every couple but Tony/Loki which was the aim of this whole prompt. Ugh, technically it was always Loki, so it counts, right?

Hope you enjoyed it. This brings us to an end of (my contributions at least for) Loki Month, and while it was fun it was also exhausting, so I'm due a break maybe? But I'll attempt to update In Places Deep, Where Dark Things Sleep before I fly out.


End file.
